Friday, July 6, Komazi

A new day, a new crisis. First I'm losing my ATM card, then I'm dieing, today someone is pilfering my bank account and I can't do anything about it. Three purchases using my ATM card, one in St. Louis, two in Ohio. I don't know how they got my password, possibly via the spam email I stupidly opened yesterday. Wells Fargo can't help me unless I phone them, and from here I can't phone. I emptied my checking account, putting the funds in my savings. I hope that stops the bleeding for now.
One of the pleasures of these summer travels is to take a day off and simply read all day, which is what I did today. The island is beautiful, the water is warm, but I spent most of the day in my room reading Richard Ford's new novel, Canada. I like it very much.

I don't think I'm suited for paradise. This place has to be as close to that status as you could find. The weather is hot but tempered by the sea breezes. In winter I'd bet it's equally temperate. The sea is several shades of blue, all so vivid it seems four dimensional, the last dimension being some kind of brighter than life beauty. You can see the sea bottom. There isn't enough pollution apparently to have clouded the water. The landscape would be familiar to any Californian:  grapes, citrus, aged carob trees, lilacs, cypress trees, artichokes. Tourism seems to be the only business in town and people generally seem to have unlimited time to lounge in the many sidewalk cafes and drink beer or coffee. You can rent a scooter for $50/day and travel over to the other 'city', Vis, on the other side of the island. Rents are not outrageous. I paid $45/day for a clean, tidy little room with a TV, a nice shower, a fridge, a large bed and, most importantly, an efficient little fan that keeps me cool on demand.
In my first hours here I worried that I'd be so taken with the place that I wouldn't want to leave. But after a bit more than 24 hours here I'm ready to depart. Perhaps if I'd had a life crowded with people I'd relish the isolation here but I've been lonely most of my life and this paradise lacks the excitement of every day life. The pain I feel from my many failures-at-life is preferable to being smothered by the quiet certitude of a place like this.